Falling
by Michael Cutter Fan
Summary: Mike, Connie, Lupo, and their complicated love lives.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **Hi guys! Well, this is my first Law and Order multi-chapter story but this is _not_ my first time dabbling in fanfiction, so I'm not exactly a newbie. However, I'm fairly new to the L&O fandom. Like most L&O fans, I like Mike and Connie together, but I'm also a Connie/Lupo shipper. Anyway, enough rambling: on with the story!

Once every couple weeks, after work, Lupo, Bernard, and Connie would stop at a bar for drinks and they would sit in a booth together. Mike never came along. They would discuss their latest case or talk about the news. Sometimes they debated. No one ever got very drunk, and around nine or ten, one of them would stand up and say it was getting late and it was time to leave.

They would all walk out of the bar together and depart in separate cabs. It wouldn't be until a few weeks later that they'd meet in a bar again for drinks after work.

Lupo and Bernard were dealing with a tough case. They were speculating about the latest developments, and they were on the verge of arguing. Connie was trying to listen, but she was pretty sure her eyes were glazing over. It had been a long day; she was exhausted.

"Connie? What do you think?"

She realized Bernard was talking to her. He wanted her opinion. Did she have one? No, because she wasn't listening.

"Sorry…I…I kind of zoned out there. I'm pretty tired. In fact, I'm going to go home. Today was grueling."

"Mike's riding you pretty hard, huh?" Lupo said.

"We had a lot of paperwork to finish," Connie said. She was surprised at her defensive tone. But then again, Mike wasn't a horrible boss.

"What's it like working for him?" Lupo asked. "It must be pretty difficult."

The way he said that bugged Connie. Lupo didn't sound rude or malicious, but there was a trace of curiosity in his question. Was he trying to get her to complain about Mike? Well, she knew Mike had his faults – his unpredictability, his insensitivity, his recklessness – but he certainly had his strengths too. He was smart, persistent, and quick on his feet. In fact, his strengths probably outnumbered his faults.

"It's not that difficult," Connie said, brushing off the question quickly.

Bernard yawned, apparently bored of talking about Mike, and checked his watch. "It's pretty late," he said. "We should all leave."

They all paid for their drinks and left the bar together. Outside, it was raining. Bernard stepped forward to hail a taxi, and when it pulled up, he paused. "Want it?" he asked Connie.

"You go ahead," she replied. "I'll take the next one."

Bernard was gone in a second. Now it was just Lupo and Connie on the sidewalk, waiting for a cab. As they waited, Connie debated back and forth with herself whether to bring up Mike again. She didn't know why, but Lupo's comments about him were annoying her. She knew Mike and Lupo didn't like each other – that was pretty obvious – but sometimes she wanted to tell both of them to can it.

Now Connie was angry at Mike and he wasn't even here. Well, that's his problem, isn't it? He wanted to stay at the office instead of going out with his co-workers for drinks. He was always like that. He never made an effort.

"What are you thinking about?" Lupo asked her.

"Getting home," she lied. "I hope it doesn't take too long to get a cab."

Lupo was silent again. "The stuff I said about Mike…I didn't mean to offend you."

"Well, yeah. It's fine."

"For a second there, I almost thought…you know. That you liked him."

Connie stared at Lupo. He stared back. She opened her mouth, ready to put him in his place, but all that came out was a gush of air. She couldn't think of anything to say to that because she knew if she denied it, she'd be lying. At the same time, lying to Lupo was probably going to be the better decision in the long run, but it was too late. The silence between them was growing bigger and bigger, and if she said anything now he'd see right through her.

"Connie?"

"You're drunk," she said. "I need to go home." She held out her arm and stepped off the sidewalk. She was done with the conversation. She was done with Lupo.

"I'm not drunk." Lupo grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "At least, not that much."

"I don't like Mike," she said.

"Okay." He didn't believe her. Or did he? His voice sounded flat. Calm. Lupo was always calm. She liked that about him.

She hoped he wouldn't bring up Mike again.

They both looked down, where Lupo's hand rested on her arm. Neither of them said anything.

"He likes _you_," he said, putting his hand back in his pocket.

He was also persistent. She did not like that about him.

"Mike does not like me," Connie said, even though she knew that wasn't particularly true. "Mike and I are just colleagues. We work together." Why did he have to use that word, "like"? As if they were seventh-graders instead of adults.

Lupo just stared at her. He looked amused. "Good to hear," he said.

Connie held out her hand for the second time. She wanted to go home. She wanted to roll up on the couch in her pajamas and watch TV. It was lonely and depressing, but at least she'd forget about Lupo and Mike for a while.

"Good night, Cyrus," she said to him as a taxi pulled up to the curb.

Lupo apprehended her once again. This time, instead of grabbing her arm, he pulled on her wrist. She turned around, surprised, and he kissed her. It was a short kiss, but it wasn't so short as to be accidental.

Lupo let go of her. Connie stood on the sidewalk, too dazed to say anything. She wondered how long he'd thought about doing that. She wondered if he'd even thought about it all. They looked into each other's eyes. Lupo's were dark brown, and she could see her reflection in them. She couldn't see anything else.

Connie was the one who kissed him this time. She didn't know she would until she was doing it – almost as if some invisible force pushed her closer to him, pushed her into his arms. The kiss wasn't short this time. It was serious. It was long. She felt unusually calm, and the only thought that ran through her mind was, _He smells good._

The taxi driver honked.

Connie pulled away, suddenly aware of everything – drops of rainwater on her skin, Lupo's arm around her waist, the whine of an ambulance in the distance. She took a step back, feeling dizzier than ever. The taxi driver honked again. He was getting impatient. Connie didn't want to lose her ride, so she flung open the car door and practically fell inside. She landed on the black leather seat, suddenly realizing she was soaking wet. With every movement she made there was a squelching sound.

Her mind was racing. Her thoughts were all over the place; she could not slow down to contemplate what just happened. Questions began popping up, questions she could not answer. Like, _What does Lupo think of me now? What was he thinking when he did that? Why did I kiss him back? Why didn't I stop him? Do I like him? Does he like me?_

She'd always prided herself on being a rational thinker. A person of reason. She was Mike's opposite – levelheaded, practical, reliable. Thinking about Mike made her stomach lurch a little. More questions filled her mind. _What would Mike think? What if he finds out? Will he think less of me?_

Of course he would. Mike thought Lupo was a wannabe, a nuisance who always tried to play lawyer.

But if Mike didn't know, he wouldn't judge her. She didn't want him to give her the stony stare he usually reserved for criminals. So she wouldn't tell him. And Connie knew Lupo wouldn't tell Mike either.

Why did she even care if Mike knew?

Connie told herself to calm down. She could get too emotional sometimes. A kiss was just a kiss. She closed her eyes and quickly rewinded the scene outside the bar, going over every detail she remembered. She opened her eyes, realizing she didn't even say goodbye to Lupo when she left.

Now Connie felt really bad. She'd kissed him and abandoned him.

But as her mind began to clear and the rain ceased, Connie realized how much she'd enjoyed it. For once, she didn't stop to think about the consequences; she just went ahead and did it. It was completely unlike her. It was liberating. Not to mention Lupo wasn't a bad kisser. He wasn't bad at all.

She told herself as soon as she saw Lupo tomorrow; she would tell him the kiss was an act of impulsivity. It meant nothing. She would tell him they had to be professional and not let anything happen between them. Even if she did want something to happen. Even if she did really have feelings for Lupo.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day at work was a busy one for Lupo and Bernard. A new case landed on their desks that morning – a 17-year-old high school girl was found beaten to death behind a dumpster. Lupo was flipping through the police report when he suddenly looked up at Bernard, who was sitting across from him. "Hey, B…" he said.

"Yeah?"

"Guess what happened last night?"

"What?"

"I, uh, kissed Connie."

Bernard looked up from the paperwork he was filling out. He didn't say anything for a while.

"Kevin, did you hear me?"

"Yeah…for a second there, I thought you said you kissed Connie."

"Well. I did. And…" He settled back in his seat, hardly able to conceal his self-satisfaction, "she kissed me back."

The expression on Bernard's face was unreadable. Lupo thought it looked like a mixture of doubt, suspicion, and…amusement. Amusement? Why was Bernard amused?

"What happened after that?"

Lupo cleared his throat. "She left."

"She just…left? Without saying anything?"

"Yeah," Lupo said, suddenly wishing he hadn't told Bernard anything in the first place.

Bernard just chuckled. "Good luck, man," he said, standing up to get a cup of coffee.

Lupo stared at the police report sitting on his desk. Whatever Bernard was saying, he was probably right. But Connie was worth it. She always had been. Lupo suddenly got an idea. He probably wasn't going to see Connie today, but if he stopped by the DA's office after work...

He had no idea what he was going to do, but he wanted to talk to her. Ask her about last night, ask her what it meant to her. The way she ran off without saying goodbye bugged him a little. Did she think it was mistake? Was she still mad at him for saying that stuff about Mike? Not that Lupo's comments were exactly rude. But he felt as if he'd crossed some kind of line. At least, that's the impression he got from Connie last night.

Lupo and Bernard spent the rest of the day working on their latest case, filling out paperwork, and researching online. They visited the victim's family and friends, but by the end of the day, they didn't make much progress. Van Buren let them off for the night, but told them to speak to the high school tomorrow. It was seven when Lupo left the precinct.

When he got to the DA's office, he ran into Connie outside of Mike's office, and the folder she was carrying dropped to the floor. Papers scattered all around them.

"Sorry."

"No, it's fine."

They both knelt down, picking up as much as they could. "So, how are you?" Lupo asked as he shuffled together a stack of papers.

"Fine." Connie's smile was polite. "I'm about to get off work."

"Do you want to get dinner?"

"Oh, well…I promised Mike I'd go have drinks with him. But you're welcome to join us."

Lupo tried hard to keep the scowl off his face. It wasn't as if he and Mike were arch enemies, they were just...different people. Different people with different ideas. They didn't clash as much as they used to, but it still happened. But at least he'd be with her.

"Sure, why not," Lupo said.

"Great!" Connie looked excited, which made Lupo slightly nervous. "Wait here. I'll be right out." She hurried down the hall.

Mike and Connie emerged from Jack's office a moment later, wearing jackets and carrying briefcases. Connie must have told Mike to behave himself, because he said, "Good evening, Detective Lupo" without a trace of disdain. He spoke in a robotic monotone, the way you'd speak to a distant relative you see only once a year. Typical Mike.

"Hey, Mike," Lupo replied. He briefly considered saying, "Good evening, Mr. Cutter," but didn't.

They ended up at a quiet bar just a block away. Lupo scanned the room and suddenly felt out of place. This was a bar that catered to lawyer-types and business people. The atmosphere was hushed and serious, and everyone wore a suit. Everyone, that is, except Lupo. For a moment, he contemplated getting the hell out of there. But it was too late. Mike and Connie had found an empty booth in the back and were making a beeline towards it.

Lupo had no choice but to follow them. They all sat down, with Connie sandwiched in the middle.

"How's work so far?" Connie asked Lupo.

"We just got a new case today," he said. "Seventeen year old girl beaten to death behind a dumpster."

"Ouch," Mike said. "Do you have any suspects?"

"Tomorrow we might," Lupo said. "We're going to talk to the principal at her high school."

"Sounds good."

The waitress came by to take their orders. Mike asked for a whiskey. Connie wanted a scotch on the rocks. She noticed Lupo's bewildered stare and smiled. "Now that I'm a lawyer, I drink the heavy stuff," she said.

"Anything for you?" the waitress asked Lupo.

"I'll have a beer."

When the waitress left, silence fell over the table. "So…"

"How's law school going?" Mike asked Lupo.

"It's good. I'm still going to night classes."

"Which is in Brooklyn, right?" Mike said.

"Yep," Lupo replied.

"Good luck," Mike said, and he chuckled so quietly, Lupo hardly noticed it. But he did, and so did Connie.

"Mike."

"What?"

"No, Connie, it's fine." Lupo waved it away.

"No, it's not," Connie said. "I hoped you guys would get over yourselves and, I don't know, become friends or something. But I guess you can't. You're both so…childish."

"Connie – "

"No. I'm going home."

Lupo quickly jumped out of his seat. Connie slid out of the booth, grabbing her coat and purse. She stormed out of the bar. Mike made a move to follow her, but Lupo beat him to it. "Someone's going to have to pay for the drinks," he said smugly.

"Wait – "

Lupo hurried after Connie, leaving Mike in the dust. He was relieved when he didn't chase after him. He burst outside. Connie stood on the sidewalk, trying to hail a cab. She saw him and began walking down the street, away from him.

"Connie! Wait! Where are you going?" Lupo shouted.

"I'm walking home!" She threw her hand in the air as a goodbye wave.

Lupo didn't let her get far. He ran. "Connie, stop," he said. "Stop leaving. You can't walk home. You're going to get mugged."

"Fine. I'll get a cab." She shoved her hands into her coat pockets. "In the meanwhile, maybe you and Mike can patch up your problems."

Lupo scoffed.

"Guess not."

"Connie…" Lupo knew he had to act fast. "Connie, I really like you."

She looked up. He had her attention. "You do?"

"Yeah. I do. And I know you like me too."

Neither of them said anything. Connie stared at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she finally looked up. Lupo took that to be a good sign. So he kissed her.

Connie wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Her eyelashes fluttered closed, tickling Lupo's face. He put his hands on her hips and felt the soft fabric of her coat. He wondered what was underneath it.

They pulled away to get a breath of air. "I have to go," Connie whispered breathlessly.

"Don't," he said.

She wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "I really _do._"

"Okay. Will I see you tomorrow?" He flagged down a taxi.

She responded by kissing him again. "Yes you will."

Lupo laughed to himself as he watched the taxi drive off. This was perfect. She was perfect. Everything was perfect.

He strolled down the street, hands in his pockets. He couldn't wait to tell Bernard everything tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

When a delivery boy knocked on the office door, Mike was surprised to see he was holding a bouquet of pink roses. "Is there a Connie Rubirosa here?" he asked.

"Uh…" The roses were glaringly pink. "She's not in right now."

The girl found behind the dumpster, Cassidy Day, attended an elite private school on the Upper East Side. When Lupo and Bernard talked to her friends, they all mentioned Darren O'Connor – her ex-boyfriend – and his volatile personality. He physically and emotionally abused Cassidy until she broke it off a few months ago. They checked her cell phone and discovered a string of texts and calls sent from him the night of the murder. Connie had obtained a search warrant and was at O'Connor's house with the detectives at the moment.

"Can you get these to her?" the deliver boy asked. Mike took the flowers and put them on Connie's desk. He sat down and tried to get back to work, but his eyes kept darting back over to the flowers. He could make out a small white card nestled in the bouquet. He stood up and walked over to her desk, pulling the card out and reading it.

_To Connie, _it said. _From Cyrus. Have a great day._

Mike was right. Something was definitely going on between them. He placed the card back into the bouquet, exactly the way he'd found it, and went back to his desk.

The night Connie stormed out of the bar, Lupo had chased after her. Mike was about to follow Connie, but after Lupo dashed out, the waitress apprehended him and asked if he was going to pay for their drinks. After arguing with her for a while, Mike reluctantly paid her and walked outside, only to discover that Lupo and Connie had abandoned him.

He'd asked Connie about it the morning after, and she'd simply shrugged. Mike couldn't help but feel irritated that she wasn't telling him the truth. He hadn't asked her about it again, but he knew what was going on. He wasn't stupid.

Lupo and Connie didn't work closely together, but they still worked _together_–and yet, she'd given him a chance. Connie had never given Mike a chance. He was almost certain she was aware of how he felt, but she'd always politely declined his dinner invitations, never responded when he made the slightest indication for his feelings for her, stiffened whenever they made brief physical contact–an accidental brush on the shoulder, an inadvertent touch of the knees under a table.

Then Carly came along, and Connie's cool façade seemed to falter a little. He saw how Connie looked at her–with a mixture of suspicion and jealousy. It was enough to send his mind racing, enough to question their relationship. But that was short-lived, and as soon as the whole escapade ended, Connie went back to being friendly but distant, polite but reserved. He wondered if he imagined the whole thing.

He'd always thought it was because she had a sense of responsibility of fulfill. That she didn't want to risk things getting complicated because they were colleagues, but apparently, she was willing to take that risk with Lupo.

Connie would have to say _something_ about those stupid flowers. They were sitting right there, in plain view. The only thing left to do was wait for her to come back.

Half an hour later, she walked in. Mike looked up from his work as she slipped off her coat, throwing it on the chair. "Lupo and Bernard found a pair of O'Connor's shoes with blood on the tracks. CSU is looking at them right now. It won't take long – "

She stopped talking when she saw the roses on her desk.

"A delivery boy dropped them off," Mike said, waiting for a reaction.

She glanced at the card. "Do you know who they're from?" She knew who sent them; she just wanted to know if Mike did too.

"Well, isn't it obvious?"

Connie put the card in her desk drawer and slid it close. "We're just seeing where things go."

"Oh."

"You don't have to make such a constipated face."

"I am not."

"Yes you are. You look like you're stuck on the toilet."

"No I don't." He relaxed his facial muscles, trying to look impassive.

There was a challenging look in Connie's eyes. "Do you have a problem with Lupo, Mike?"

"No. Not at all." Mike forgot how Connie could get sometimes. It exhausted him.

"We just want to be discreet," Connie said. "We'll let everyone know when the time is right."

"Fine."

"See, this is why I felt like I had to lie."

"What? I'm not doing anything."

"You still look constipated."

"Why don't I just turn around in my seat so you won't be able to look at my face and point out all the things wrong with it?"

Connie glared.

Jack opened his office door. "I just got off the phone with the mayor," he said, taking off his glasses and polishing them with his tie. "He's hosting the Frick Collection's 15th Annual Fundraiser," Jack said. "We're all invited."

"What? Why?"

"The mayor personally requested both of you," he said. "He wants to meet my two right-hand men." Connie gave him a knowing look. "I mean, right hand man and woman."

"Do I really have to go?" Mike asked, recoiling a little at the thought of wearing a tuxedo all evening. And there was the fact that he was never invited to these kinds of social events.

"Yeah, Jack, this is kind of a fancy party for us," Connie added.

"Unfortunately, attendance is mandatory," Jack said, "but at least you'll be able to bring Detective Lupo."

"How do you know about that? I didn't tell you. Or anyone, for that matter."

"Word gets around. I can't say I'm not surprised."

Connie rolled her eyes and glanced at Mike. "That's seems to be everyone's initial reaction," she said.

"Just be there," Jack told them, and closed his office door.

At the same time, an intern knocked and came in. "Hi, Mike," she smiled, and handed him a note.

"Thanks, Megan." Mike unfolded the note. "They found a pair of O'Connor's shoes in his house with Day's blood all over them," he read. "The detectives are on their way to arrest him."

Connie watched the intern leave the room. "How do you know her name?"

"Whose name?"

"That intern back there."

"Oh, Megan? She's nice."

Connie stared at the door, at the empty space where Megan had just stood. "I bet she is."

Mike didn't fail to notice the hint of disdain in Connie's voice, or the look on her face. He didn't reply; he knew his silence itself sufficed as a response.

"She's a lot younger than you."

"Well, you're a lot younger than me too."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mike."

Mike stared at Connie, and she stared back. Neither of them said anything. Her expression was unreadable. Was she jealous? Disgusted? Amused? And what did she mean by, "don't be ridiculous"?

He knew what she meant. She was rejecting him, letting him know his romantic ambitions were just fantasy. It shouldn't have bothered him so much–it wasn't as if this were a new development–but it did, especially because she said it to his face. This wasn't like the one or two times Mike asked her to dinner and she politely said no; this wasn't like the time that juror told Connie she was the "total package" and he'd agreed, only for his comment to be met with a silent, reproachful, stare. No, this wasn't like those times at all.

Connie looked at the pink roses on her desk. "We should start getting ready for the evidentiary hearing."

"Right."

They bent their heads over their work, their silence punctuated by the scribbles of their pens and the clock ticking. It wasn't until noon that Mike realized he was hungry.

"I'm going to get lunch," Mike said, standing up. "Do you want anything?"

"No. You go ahead."

Mike left the DA's office, feeling guilty for leaving Connie all alone to work on the evidentiary hearing, but not guilty enough to turn around and go back inside. There was a coffee shop just a block from the office. Mike walked towards its direction.

As he waited in line, he debated whether to buy chocolate biscotti to go along with his cappuccino. Suddenly, the person in front of him turned around. It was Megan, the intern from the office.

"Mike! Hey," Megan said. She was holding two cups of coffee. "I was just about to bring this to you," she said, handing him the second cup.

"Oh. Well, thank you."

"No problem," she smiled. "So I hear you're going to that political function at the Frick."

"I am," Mike replied, confused. "Where did you hear that? I was only invited this morning."

"Office grapevine," Megan said, taking a sip of her coffee. "News travels fast. But, you know, it's because you're kind of the center of conversation around here."

"Really?"

"Really." Megan smiled again. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but a lot of the interns have crushes on you."

"I didn't know that." Mike never paid much attention to the interns. They performed menial tasks around the office, like delivering messages and buying coffee for the higher-ups, but he couldn't help feeling flattered. After all, most of the interns were women.

"I have to go," Megan said, "but I'll see you around?"

"Thanks for the coffee."

"No problem." She gave him one last departing smile, turned around, and walked down the street, in the opposite direction. Mike took a sip of his coffee before realizing her phone number was written in black marker on the side of the cup.

**AN: **Finally done with that. Sorry for the slow update, but my account was acting weird for a while. Question: what is Lupo's dog's name?


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **The reason why this chapter is already out is because I've been working on it for a while, so it's long-ish. Thanks for telling me Lupo's dog's name is Otto – I swear I heard it was Toby somewhere…

The Frick Collection's 15th Annual Fundraiser was starting in twenty minutes, and Connie wasn't even close to being ready.

The evidentiary hearing had gone well, and they had finished jury selection last week. Mike had asked Connie to take the O'Connor file home with her on Friday night, and she'd been working on it all day. When she looked up from the file, it was six-fifty. She had a little over a half an hour to get showered, changed, and dressed. In other words, she barely had any time at all.

Connie took a record three-minute shower and tore apart her closet looking for something to wear. She found a modest little black dress hanging in the back, covered in mothballs. She ran a lint brush over it a couple times, put on makeup, and dumped the necessities into her purse–lip gloss, cell phone, and compact.

As she ran around the house, checking to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, she realized it was raining outside. And her umbrella was back at the DA's office.

Connie left the apartment in a relatively bad mood. Her hair wasn't fully blow-dried, she was running late, and she had to pick up her umbrella before going to the Frick. And she wasn't even looking forward to it. Sure, it would be nice to meet the mayor, but she would really rather be at home, eating a home-cooked meal and watching TV.

Connie paid the taxi driver and headed into the building. She rode the elevator upstairs and hurried to her desk, where she flicked on the light and began searching for her umbrella. Was it in Mike's office?

She headed down the hall and opened his door. To her surprise, Mike was sitting at his desk, going through the drawers. He looked up when she came in.

He was wearing a tuxedo. With a bowtie. Connie couldn't help smiling.

"What?"

"You're wearing a bowtie," she said. "It looks cute."

"You look pretty cute too," he said.

"Oh, I just threw this on," she mumbled feebly, grinding her heel into the carpet. "What are you doing here?"

"I forgot my BlackBerry," he said.

"You left it here overnight?" she asked.

"I came into the office this afternoon to catch up on some work." He lowered his head to peek into one of his desk drawers. "There it is." He slipped his BlackBerry into his pocket and stood up, straightening his jacket. "Why are you here?"

"I need to get my umbrella," she said, spotting it on her chair. She paused and briefly considered if asking her next question would be weird. "Do you want to share a taxi?"

"Sure." If this was an odd thing to say, Mike didn't seem to care. He crossed the room, turning off the lights. With umbrella in hand, Connie stepped across the threshold, with Mike right behind her. He was so close she could feel his body heat and a smell a trace of cologne.

Outside, they stood under Connie's umbrella, waiting for a taxi. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and he looked at her right back, his blue eyes giving nothing away. His gaze lingered a little longer than it should, and for some reason, Connie didn't mind. A cab pulled up to the curb, its wheels crunching on the gravel.

"You excited?" he asked, shutting the car door.

"Not really," she admitted. "These kinds of parties really aren't my thing."

"Well, attendance is mandatory," Mike replied, leaning his head against the back of the seat, and Connie could tell he wasn't looking forward to it either.

"Mike…"

"Yeah?"

Connie had a feeling she was supposed to apologize–but for what? Their "fight" a couple weeks ago was barely that, and they'd gotten over it. There was still tension between them, but that wasn't unusual. Something was nagging at her in the back of her mind, but Mike was starting to look puzzled, so she just smiled and said, "Nothing."

The taxi pulled up to the Frick, the driver hitting the brakes abruptly. Mike handed him a fistful of bills and opened the door, holding it for Connie. There was a gust of fresh air as soon as she stepped outside. The museum was a huge building with windows lining the exterior; trees framing the structure, and an American flag billowing away on a flagpole.

As the taxi sped away, Connie turned around to correct Mike's bowtie. "There," she said. "That's better." She looked up to smile at him–he was just an inch or so taller than her.

"Thanks."

"I should go find Cyrus," she said, dropping her hands to her waist. "I'll see you inside."

"Okay."

Sometimes Connie felt like she was teetering on a scale, hovering in the middle, trying her best not to fall. As she walked away from Mike, she tried to forget about his comment back at the office, his crooked bowtie, and impossibly blue eyes. They were colleagues, friends, nothing more, and Connie quickly reminded herself to keep her personal and business life separated from each other. Lately, however, it was getting harder and harder to do that.

She spotted Lupo waiting for her at the entrance and rushed to meet him, ducking under the awning to avoid the rain. "Hey," he said, pulling her into a hug. "You look great."

"So do you." Connie ran a hand through her hair. "Shall we go in?"

Inside, a coat check girl took their jackets and checked their names off a list. Lupo rested his hand on the small of Connie's back. They were ushered into the Oval Room, where most of the guests were mingling: politicians, congressmen, lawyers. The walls were wood-paneled and hung with paintings. Waiters circulated around the room, holding trays of champagne, canapés, and quiches.

"What do you think?" Lupo asked, gesturing to a painting of a horse.

"It looks like you," Connie laughed. He playfully pinched her waist.

"Behave yourself, detective," she said, "we can do that later."

A waiter walked by bearing two flutes of champagne. "Help yourself," he said.

Connie took a sip of the champagne. This wasn't too bad, she thought. She was wearing a nice dress, there was some pleasant classical music playing in the background, and the champagne was cold and bubbly, just the way she liked it. And Lupo was here, looking irresistible in his tux and resting his hand on her back. She wondered if he was falling in love with her. They'd only been going out for a month. The thought terrified her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Mike coming into the room. Then she saw who was with him. It was that Megan intern from the DA's office, clinging onto Mike's arm. Why was she here? This was a high society event, not a frat party. Mike turned to her and said something. Megan laughed, throwing her hair back. She looked at him like he was a piece of meat. That girl probably wasn't even old enough to rent a car; what was she doing here?

"Oh God, they're coming over," Connie whispered under her breath.

"Who?" Lupo asked, perplexed.

"Mike and–" Connie could barely bring herself to say the girl's _Megan. _It was a completely nauseating name. It belonged to a seventh-grade schoolgirl, not a twenty-something-year old intern. She drained the rest of her champagne and plastered on a fake smile as they approached.

"Connie, you know Megan," Mike said in a completely oblivious manner, as if he brought women half his age to black-tie events every weekend. At least Carly had been age-appropriate. "She's my colleague."

"Hey," Megan said with a smile.

"Hi, Mike," Lupo said, "Megan, it's nice to meet you."

She'd never noticed Megan until the day she heard her call Mike by his first name. But Connie had to admit that Megan was pretty in an unassuming, girl-next-door kind of way. She was wearing a short dress, sleeveless and above-the-knee.

Connie tried her best to look polite and dignified. "Hi," she said, taking Lupo's hand in hers. Mike's gaze lingered on their intertwined fingers for a moment. He looked up to meet Connie's eyes. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"I think we're needed," Connie told Mike as she spotted Jack and the mayor approaching. She was grateful for the interlude.

Their conversation with the mayor was short but sweet. They introduced themselves, and after a few minutes of chatting, the mayor excused himself. "Nice to meet you," he smiled, shaking their hands and disappearing into the crowd.

Jack looked at Mike and Connie with a smile. "I think he liked you two," he said.

Connie smiled half-heartedly. She wanted to be at home, under the blankets, watching _Friends_ reruns.

Mike seemed to have the same expression on his face. Jack furrowed his brow. "What's going on?" he asked. "Did someone die?"

"I'm tired," Connie said, "I think I'm going to go." Without waiting for Jack or Mike's response, she turned around and headed back to the Oval Room. Before she could make her escape, a hand fell upon her shoulder. Without turning around she knew it was Mike's.

"Connie."

"Yeah?"

"If this is about Megan…"

"What's about Megan?" she asked, knowing the conversation was headed nowhere good.

"Look," Mike said, taking a step closer to her. That's when she noticed there was a cowlick in his hair. Connie drew in her breath, knowing that if he took another step, she'd be helpless. "I know you don't like her, but that doesn't mean–"

"Well, that's very smart of you to notice," Connie said, her words picking up pace, "I never thought you'd bring a teenage girl as your date."

"What, are you jealous?"

Jealous! Who did Mike think he was? His question was hauntingly familiar, and suddenly she remembered the whole debacle with Carly. Connie refused to tell him the truth. He'd never let her live it down. Besides, it's not like she was attracted to him or anything. Not like she wanted to be the one to cling to his arm and laugh at his stupid jokes. Not like she wanted to smooth down his cowlick and fix his bowtie.

Okay, she did. She wanted to do those things and more. She _was_ jealous–she refused to admit it to Mike, but she would admit it to herself. She was jealousof Megan, an intern who could still pull off a short dress, an intern who was ten years younger than her, an intern who got to spend an entire evening on Mike's arm.

Last time, when Mike asked if she was jealous, she'd recovered quickly and shot back with a snide comment. This time, she was too angry to speak. Without a word, Connie turned around and left.

She found Lupo inside the coat room, talking on his phone. He hung up. "Hey," she said, taking his hand, "do you want to get out of here?"

"They found a body on the other side of town," Lupo sighed. "I have to go with Bernard."

"Oh."

"I'll call you," he said, kissing her forehead. She watched him leave the coat room, pulling on his jacket as he did so.

Now she was all alone with her thoughts. She had two options–suck it up and go back to the party, or take a taxi home, where she would probably spend the rest of the evening flipping channels or working on the O'Connor trial.

Surprisingly, she did neither. She left the museum, but did not go back to her apartment. Instead, she walked down Fifth Avenue with her umbrella, fighting off the evening rain. Her shoes squelched with every step she took. No one else was walking around the street in this weather. She wondered if she'd gone delusional.

She ducked into the first restaurant she spotted. Connie took a seat in a booth near a window and ordered a cappuccino with whipped cream. She deserved a treat for having to go to that stupid party. When her coffee came, she wrapped her hands around it and felt a warm sensation wash over her. The café was nearly dead-silent, and her mind quietly began to pick apart the events of the evening. Connie quickly distracted herself by focusing on the candle in the center of the table. She watched the flame wobble back and forth. It bent to the side, and she was certain it would go out, but it only kept dancing, taunting her. She glanced at the mountain of whipped cream on her coffee. It wasn't taunting her. She dipped her finger in and brought it to her mouth. Mmmm.

Someone opened the restaurant door and a gust of wind interrupted her delightful discussion with the whipped cream. Connie shivered and decided to move to another booth. Then she saw who had just come in.

"Hi. Connie, right?" Megan stumbled over to Connie's booth and plopped into the seat across from her.

"Hi."

"I'm Megan, remember? Mike's date!"

"Are you drunk?"

"A little," Megan giggled, "but it's fine. Can I get a coffee?" She waved her hand, signaling to the waitress.

"Where's Mike?"

"He left early," she said, shrugging blithely. "And then I decided to bail. What a boring party, huh? I guess that's why you left too."

"Yeah, something like that."

There was a moment of silence as the waitress came by to drop off a cup of coffee for Megan. She wrapped her fingers around the mug and blew on the steam. She watched the coffee ripple and swirl until it settled. "Mike doesn't like me that way," she said, "I'm too young for him."

"I'm–I'm sorry to hear that."

Megan looked up and studied Connie's face. "No you're not. You're not sorry at all."

Connie didn't reply right away. She looked down at the edge of the table. It was smooth and cold and slightly chipped at the edge. She could lie, but she could also tell the truth. Megan was drunk. She wouldn't remember their conversation tomorrow. "I guess I'm not."

"Do you like him?"

"That's not really any of your business," Connie said, looking out the window. The rain was still coming down hard. She wished Megan would go away.

Megan sipped her coffee, following Connie's gaze. "There's nothing out there," she said.

Connie looked right into Megan's eyes. "I don't like Mike."

"I don't believe you. You do like him. That's why you don't like me."

"Good night, Megan," Connie said. She grabbed her umbrella and slid out of the booth. "Hopefully you'll start going out with someone age-appropriate."

"See? That, right there. You like him!" Megan squealed like she'd made a scientific breakthrough.

Connie stormed out of the restaurant, opening up her umbrella. She walked down the street, looking for a taxi. They ignored her, driving right past. Connie swore under her breath. She wished she knew how to whistle with her fingers. She made a mental note to start learning how.

She contemplated going back into the café and calling a taxi. But then she would have to face Megan again. And Megan saw right through Connie. Unfortunately, she was right about her–about everything. Connie felt a twinge of guilt when she thought about what she'd said to Mike at the party. She owed him an apology.

A strong burst of wind nearly swept her off the sidewalk. Her umbrella flipped inside-out, flying out of her hand and into the night sky. Today was really not Connie's day.

She was drenched. She was tired. She was lonely. She couldn't get a taxi, she had no umbrella–Connie wondered if she was going to have to resort to sleeping on the side of the sidewalk on a newspaper. She imagined herself trudging through the slimy, sewage-infested streets of the city, holding out her hand and asking strangers for quarters.

Don't be melodramatic, Connie told herself. "Taxi!" she shouted, waving her arms. That seemed to work. A cab pulled up to the curb, and she stumbled inside, falling onto the seat. Her coat was drenched, and it made the leather seats squelch. She slammed the door. "Sorry," she mumbled to the cab driver, who shot her a nasty look.

She called Mike on her cell phone. It rang once, twice, three times…he picked up on the fourth ring. "Connie?"

"Hey, Mike…can I come over? I need to talk to you."

"Uh, sure." He gave her his address. "See you soon?" He sounded hopeful. She wondered what he had in mind.

"See you soon." She couldn't help smiling as she hung up. She gave the taxi driver Mike's address and settled back into the seat. She was going to make things right.

A few moments later, she was outside his door, scrunching her hair. She was going to leave a trail of water into his apartment. Also, her dress was probably ruined. But she didn't care; she was here. She lifted her hand and knocked.

Mike looked surprised to see her, as if he hadn't expected her to even show up. "Rough night?" he asked, taking in the sight of her.

"Yeah, kind of."

"Hold on." He disappeared for a moment and came back with a towel. "Let me take your coat. Come in."

Connie stepped inside, shrugging off her jacket. Mike ran his fingers over her shoulders. But she didn't mind, especially when she felt his breath against the back of her neck. She looked around his apartment. It was small and tidy, except for the papers strewn across the countertop. The smell of coffee lingered in the air. "Thanks," she said, wandering over to the mantelpiece. A few picture frames were perched on top of it. There was a black-and-white photo of a young Mike – maybe seven or eight – standing on a baseball diamond with a man. They were both smiling.

"Is this your dad?"

Mike followed her gaze. "Yeah."

Connie didn't ask any more. She threw the towel over her shoulder and settled down on the couch. Mike took a seat next to her. He waited.

"I was jealous," she admitted. "I'm sorry for calling Megan a teenager. She's not. She's…okay."

"You don't have to apologize. I wasn't holding it against you."

"How did things go with her?"

Mike sighed, propping his elbow up on the couch and massaging his temples. "She's a nice girl, but I don't think it's going to work out."

"Hmm."

The apartment was silent except for the sound of rain pounding against the window. "So we're okay?" she asked him.

"We're okay."

She closed her eyes and smiled sleepily. "Good."


	5. Chapter 5

"You know what's coming up?" Connie asked as she scratched Otto behind the ears. She was sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in her lap, still dressed in work clothes. _Food Network _was playing on the TV. Otto was sitting on the floor, gnawing at an old chew toy. Lupo looked up from the pile of mail he was sorting through.

"What?"

"Your birthday."

"It's in two weeks."

"It's soon. I have to ask you what you want. I'm no good at surprises."

"I don't want anything," Lupo said, "I have everything I need."

"How am I supposed to get you a present then?" Connie picked up the remote and began flipping channels. Otto curiously sniffed at the popcorn bowl in her lap. She used her free hand to push his wet nose away.

"Why don't we just go out for dinner," he suggested. "Just the two of us."

"That sounds fun," Connie said, "but you should at least get a present. Everyone likes presents."

Lupo abandoned the pile of mail and reached into the popcorn bowl, "I don't need a present. I have you."

Connie turned her head, smiling up at him. She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, and pulled away for a moment. Lupo leaned in again. Otto barked.

"Do you think we're becoming one of those couples who have no sex lives because they don't have any privacy?" Lupo wondered.

"Of course not. Otto's just a big baby, isn't that right, Otto?" Connie sighed. "I wish I had a dog," she said wistfully, kneeling on the floor. She scratched Otto's head and his tongue flopped out. He was clearly in heaven. Lucky dog, Lupo thought.

"How's work?" she asked as she headed to the kitchen, placing the empty bowl in the sink.

Lupo scratched his head, slightly disappointed they weren't going to be resuming their make out session. "It's fine. What about you?"

"The jury came back with a 'guilty' verdict," Connie said. "O'Connor got what he deserved." Lupo couldn't help but notice how tired she looked, despite the triumphant smile on her face. He knew she worked long hours because she was dedicated to her job, but he couldn't help but wonder if Mike had anything to do with it. He knew they often stayed after work when they had a big case, working at the office later than anyone else. A few times Connie had bailed on dinner plans to finish research that couldn't wait until tomorrow.

"You look tired," he said. "Is Mike making you stay late after work?"

"Mike has nothing to do with it. I stay late because I want to." She raised her eyebrows at him.

He tried to undo his words. "Right. Of course."

That wasn't good enough. She gave him a disapproving look. "You can tell me why you don't like him," she said. "I won't tell."

"I don't _not_ like him."

"Then what?"

"He just…he always has this..."

"Hmm?"

"The way he acts," Lupo said. "He has an enormous ego."

Connie shut off the TV, which usually meant she was offended and wanted to Talk and Have a Discussion. Lupo thought back to the night when they had all gone to the bar after work and Mike said something to Lupo (he couldn't even remember anymore) and Connie had stormed out. In a funny kind of way, Mike was the reason why they were together now.

"I had a deal with Mike when he started working at the DA's office," Connie said. "He wasn't allowed to talk bad about Jack in front of me."

"So you're saying we should do the same thing."

"Exactly," she said with a smile.

"Why are you so protective of him anyway?"

"Because I care about him."

"You _care_ about him?" Lupo raised his eyebrows.

"I care about him as a colleague," Connie corrected herself. She stood up. "It's getting late." She picked up her coat and threw her purse over her shoulder. Was she mad?

"Come on, you can walk me out."

She wasn't mad. Not that much. Lupo stood up and opened the door for her. Connie turned around, leaning against the doorframe. "I can't come over tomorrow," she said. "I have to work late."

"Okay." Lupo resisted the urge to mention Mike. "Well, I'll call you."

"Bye."

He closed the door. He sat down on the couch, next to Otto. "What do you think?" he asked him.

Otto stared at Lupo blankly. He didn't have an answer for him tonight.

The next day at work was an uneventful one. Nonetheless, Van Buren insisted Lupo and Bernard fill out paperwork to kill time. They sat at their desks pretending to write but stood up every five minutes to get coffee. "How's it going with Connie?" Bernard asked as he shuffled a stack of papers.

The question was casual enough, but Lupo knew what Bernard thought about Connie. Not that he disliked her, but he thought she would just bring complications into his life. Lupo grudgingly had to admit that Bernard was right about that. Somewhat. He was the kind of person who was always right about everything. He'd been right about Emma too. He had never directly told Lupo to break up with her, but he'd expressed his disapproval more than a few times.

"We're fine."

"Good."

Lupo's cell phone rang. He dug into his pocket and pulled it out. To his surprise, the Caller ID said it was Jenny. They hadn't talked in months. Why was she calling him?

He looked up to meet Bernard's eyes. "You gonna answer that?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah." Lupo got out of his chair and went into the hallway. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jenny's voice was as familiar as ever. "Cyrus?"

He paced the hallway back and forth. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to say hi," Jenny said. "How are you doing?" 

"Good."

"The kids miss you a lot."

The guilt hit him my surprise. It felt heavy and thick, and suddenly he regretted not letting the call go to voicemail. He hadn't seen his niece and nephew in a long time. "Yeah, I know," he said apologetically, "it's just my work…"

"I understand." She paused. "I know your birthday is coming up. I was thinking we go out for dinner? Leave the kids with a babysitter?"

"Oh. Uh…" It had been a while since he'd gone out on a date with Jenny. Well, this couldn't really be considered _a date_. She was his sister-in-law. And ex-girlfriend. "Maybe."

"Maybe," she repeated. "Cyrus, if you don't have any plans tonight, you should stop by."

"Um…" He paused for what seemed like an eternity. "Okay."

After work, he took a taxi to Jenny's apartment. It had been a long time since he'd been here. Once Tom committed suicide, Lupo somehow became the kids' replacement father. He'd drive them to school, help them with their homework, and cook dinner. There wasn't anything Lupo wouldn't have done for the kids. And for Jenny. She probably hadn't meant to take advantage of his guilt, but that's how it felt. But now he had Connie. He was only here for the kids.

Jenny opened the door with a dishcloth in one hand. "Oh, Cyrus," she said, "you're here."

"Am I late?" He glanced at the clock. It was a little bit past nine.

"The kids just fell asleep," she said apologetically. "Do you want to come in anyway?"

"Sure."

"We've missed you," she said, heading into the kitchen and throwing the dishcloth into the sink. "They always ask where you went."

The guilt was back again. Jenny really knew how to make him feel like crap. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've started seeing someone."

"That's great! Who is she?" Jenny kneeled to the ground and began picking up toys.

Lupo bent down and scooped up a pile of Legos. "It's Connie."

"Connie?"

"She works for the DA's office."

"Oh. I remember her." Jenny stood up, hastily nudging a box of action figures into the closet. "She's pretty."

There was a long, awkward silence.

Jenny looked down at her feet. "Look, I know we haven't seen each other in a while. It's partly my fault too. After Tom passed away…" She trailed off.

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled.

"You helped out a lot. I'd really like it if you stopped by more. I miss you."

Lupo scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I will…if I have time." He felt like he needed to get out of here. "It's late. I better go."

"Congrats," she said as he headed for the door. "You know, about your new girlfriend," she added.

"Oh. Right. Good night, Jenny."

"Good night, Cyrus."

**AN: **I was going through old documents and realized Chapter 5 was still sitting there because I wrote it like, centuries ago and never bothered publishing it. Fortunately I have not forgotten about this story and updates will be coming in the near future. Thank you for reading and please review!


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